snow white pg2-raybourn

Photo by Walter Chin

I stepped closer still. He closed his eyes again and covered my hand with his own. ‘You smell of violets. You always smell of violets,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how many times I have walked these moors and smelled them and thought you were near. On and on I walked, following the scent of you, and you were never there. When I saw you tonight, I thought I had finally gone mad’…
~
Deanna Raybourn